A Perfect Chaos

I was reborn back to 1975, when the child in my womb was three months old. I did not tell anyone and quietly had an abortion. However, I still wrapped cotton around my belly every day, pretending the baby was still there. In my past life, my husband Declan Huxley's childhood sweetheart Jane Patton and I gave birth on the same day. She had a healthy, ordinary baby boy. But my child looked nothing like us—he was mixed-race, with features of the Valorian people. Declan and I were both locals, so there was no way our son could look like this. Enraged, Declan scolded me in front of everyone, accusing me of cheating on him and having a disgraceful affair with a Valorian. No matter how many times I explained, no one believed me, and I became the shameful woman everyone pointed at. Worse still, Declan reported me and handed in some foreign letters he found at home, which led to me being taken by federal agents and sentenced as a spy. I spent ten years in prison, and when I finally walked out, I was nothing but skin and bones. Meanwhile, Declan had climbed the ranks for his so-called loyalty to the country. He held Jane's hand and brought along my real son, Seth Huxley, then threw 500 dollars at me like it was charity. He said, "Back then, Jane was accidentally deceived by someone else and gave birth to that brat. Unlike you, she has a gentle nature and couldn't endure hardship, so I had no choice but to switch your children. "This money is payment for your ten years and your reputation. You have a criminal record, and I already filed for divorce long ago to be with Jane. Seth also thinks you're not worthy of me, so you better take care of yourself." Seth also looked at me with disgust. "Mommy Jane treats me very well, and she's not like you; she's never been to prison. I don't want a mother like you!" When I learned the truth, the fury was so overwhelming that I had a stroke and died in despair. In this new life, I want to see how they plan to scheme against me when the child is already gone.

Our bridal room was set on fire, and my husband, a firefighter, was grievously wounded while trying to save me. I sent him to be saved at the hospital where Winnie Sloan, his childhood friend worked, but the surgery ended up being a failure, and my husband passed away. After the announcement that my husband was deceased, Winnie told me that his dying wish was that he wanted a child. Hearing that, I powered through my grief and used the sperm he had previously frozen to conceive a child through IVF, raising my son to be enrolled in the most prestigious university in the area. On the day of the celebration party, my son kicked me out and invited my husband and Winnie onto the stage as his 'biological parents', and that's when I found out that my husband had faked his death. All those years ago, he and Winnie had swapped out the embryo I'd conceived in secret. The son I had painstakingly given birth to and raised turned out to have no blood relation to me whatsoever. Meanwhile, my husband had been enjoying a luxurious life overseas with Winnie while waiting for a chance to reconnect with his son. In my rage, I confronted them and demanded an explanation, but ended up dying because they pushed me down the stairs. When I came to, I was back to the day of the fire.

When my mother falls gravely ill, my husband, who has asthenospermia, promises to help me think of something. So, I give him all my savings. Despite being pregnant, I get a part-time job doing DoorDash deliveries. However, I see my husband when I pass by a realtor's office. He's supposed to be hard at work like me, but he's buying a place for his childhood friend. He even has his arm around her. "That old hag thinks I only earn that little each month. Don't worry, Yvette. I only give her 10% of what I earn. The rest goes to you!" I hold back my tears and grab the hem of his shirt, wanting to borrow some money for my mother's treatment. However, he shoves me away irritably. "I give you 2000 dollars a month! Isn't that enough? Have you spent it all on useless things?" He leaves without another look back, ignoring my cries and pleas. He also kicks me, effectively murdering the child he's always dreamed of having. Later, he grovels at my feet and begs for forgiveness. It's too bad I've already given up on him. I don't want him anymore.

The intern secretly submitted a voluntary pay-cut application on my behalf. As a result, my salary dropped from $10,000 to $2,000. When I found out and confronted him, my boss and colleagues all defended him. "The company is not doing great right now. Oscar was just trying to save costs for us. Do you have to nickel-and-dime over this?" With my salary so low, I couldn't afford the special medication for my chronic migraines, and one day I passed out at my desk during an attack. But the intern snuck a video of me unconscious and posted it on the company's website. He even whipped up a detailed 100-page slideshow breaking down how I was slacking off on the clock and dumping all my work on him. Overnight, I was labeled a workplace bully. My boss gave me the cold shoulder, and my colleagues whispered about me. Even worse, some extreme "anti-workplace-bullying" activists tracked me down to my home, showed up with two cans of gasoline, and burned me and my parents alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the intern had submitted my pay-cut form. In this second chance at life, I would make sure everyone saw the intern for who he truly was.

Every other student could hear the inner thoughts of Chloe Yates, the campus belle. It was like a radio station was broadcasting her mind, and unfortunately for me, the broadcast was usually bad news. It started during the ROTC courses in our freshman year. I was doubled over with terrible period cramps and asked to sit out. Chloe just shook her head, letting out a dramatic, pitying sigh. "Oh, this is awful," her internal voice broadcast to everyone. "Should I tell everyone the truth? Sylvie is totally faking it. If the sergeant finds out she's lying, he's going to punish the whole class because of her." The sergeant, hearing her thoughts, immediately assumed I was a liar. He forced the entire class to run 30 laps as punishment. After that, no one would talk to me. Later, when I applied for the need-based financial aid grant, Chloe went on a rampage with her internal thoughts. "Her family isn't poor!" her voice screamed in everyone's heads. "They have a car and a house. She's just vain. She's trying to scam the college out of grant money so she can buy a new phone. I feel so bad for the actual poor kid whose spot she's stealing." Once the class heard that, they silently agreed to vote against my application. Without that money, I had no choice but to work three part-time jobs just to survive. I worked myself into the ground until I finally gave out. I collapsed in the classroom while clutching my chest, suffering a massive heart attack. I cried out, begging my classmates to call 911. However, Chloe's voice cut through the air right then. "She doesn't have a heart condition. She's pregnant. She's trying to trick a guy into taking her to the hospital so she can get an abortion, and then she's going to frame whoever helps her for getting her knocked up." Terrified of being blamed, the students backed away from me like I was radioactive. They stood there and watched as I died on the classroom floor. Right up until the moment I died, I never understood why my life had turned into such a nightmare. However, when I snapped my eyes open, I had returned to the day of the ROTC courses. The cramps were back, and the sun was beating down on me. Chloe did not know one crucial detail. This time, I could hear her thoughts too.

After I dropped out of school, my parents didn't pressure me to do anything. But Nicole Hicks kept calling nonstop. She was my boyfriend's childhood friend who had established a reputation as a genius. I was too busy helping out in the fields, growing vegetables, and splashing around in the creek, living my best carefree life. Writing code wasn't even on my mind. In my past life, she had turned in a project just one day before I did. Her codes were exactly the same as mine. Everyone called me a fraud and said I had stolen it. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. Later, she even did a livestream, accusing me online of being a school bully. People went wild. They didn't just come for me—they went after my whole family. Some obsessed troll chased my parents in a car, and they died in a crash. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped off a high-rise, my eyes still wide open, refusing to accept the way it all ended. Even in my last moment, I couldn't figure it out. That code was mine. My hard work. So how did she manage to post it before me? When I opened my eyes again, I was back, right before everything fell apart.

From the time I was ten until I turned eighteen, my parents made me write 299 IOUs. Every time I needed money, I had to borrow it and pay it back as an adult. Then I got into a car accident. I needed money for surgery but was still short by 3,000. With no other options, I went to my parents for help. But they just gave me cold smiles. “Clara, you’re eighteen now. We have no obligation to give you money anymore. If you need it, write another IOU.” While holding back tears, I wrote my 300th IOU. After my surgery, I saw my adopted sister’s social media post. In the pictures, she was celebrating her 18th birthday on a cruise. She was the center of attention, like a princess. My parents had given her a luxury apartment in the city and a Maserati as birthday gifts. Even my childhood friend was looking at her with love in his eyes. She said they were the ones she loved and thanked them for giving her the best of everything. I looked down at the crumpled IOU in my hand and suddenly laughed. Once I paid off my debt, I would no longer need such a family.

A week before our wedding, my fiancee announces that she is pregnant using my younger brother's frozen sperm. "I'm grateful that our love can carry on in another way," she gushes on social media, showing off the test results. My brother replies, "Meeting you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me." Then Mom chimes in. "Jenny, you've been through so much. Nathan's apartment should be under your name alone." I don't argue and simply reply with a single word—"Congratulations". My phone rings almost seconds later. "Your brother can't have kids anymore. It's just one child, and it's still related to you. Why are you being so petty?" she snaps. I laugh under my breath, hang up, and dial another number. "Want to get married?"

The human traffickers were apprehended, and after DNA verification, the police returned me to my affluent parents. My parents gave a cold nod, thanked the officers, and instructed the butler to make me comfortable. Two months after returning home, the fake heiress, Irene Burrel, secretly signed me up for a wilderness survival course. My parents gently stroked her head. “Since you want to play, let her accompany you.” They did not care one bit if I died out there. Irene smirked triumphantly at me. “What does it matter if you’re the real heiress? I can still do whatever I want with you! “Survival training is my daily routine. I’ll make sure you leave that competition on a stretcher!” When we arrived at the wilderness training grounds in the mountains, I laughed. I grew up in these very forests. Did she think I did not know this place?

After another one of Winifred Clayton's dramatic suicide threats, Edgar Snider secretly starts a relationship with her behind my back under one condition—I can never find out about it. He says, "I can be with you, but Wanda is everything to me. Whatever happens between us, she can never know." Winifred pretends to agree. Then, she sends me a video of her and Edgar living together, my son included. "No matter what happens, Edgar will never leave me. So stop deluding yourself—you were never a match for me." What she doesn't know is that I never plan to compete. In just one month, I'll be on a flight to Avernia, gone from Edgar's life for good.